Feast and famine! Sucks, doesn't it?
Here's a recap of what we've seen so far…
🎯 TARGETS. Who you aim at.
💣 PAYLOAD. What you drop on them.
⏰ TIMING. When you show up.
We're on TIMING today, and it's the third dial that secretly screws up the other two.
I'll go first, because I ran into this for years.
I told you in the TARGETS post that I was sending five proposals a week when I felt like it, or twenty-five when I panicked about money.
I framed that as a volume problem. It wasn't, really.
It was a rhythm problem.
Five and twenty-five weren't two different habits. They were the same habit, measured at two different points in a cycle I couldn't see.
Good month → stop. Bad month → panic. Repeat until you conclude you're bad at business.
And here's the part I want to be fair about.
Stopping made sense.
I had work. Projects with dates on them. Clients who'd actually paid me. And prospecting was the only thing on my list with no deadline attached, so prospecting was the thing that could slide.
Nobody emails you to ask where this week's outreach is.
(Unless I'm coaching you 😂)
So you drop it. You did the responsible thing with the hours you had, which was fulfill the projects you got already.
That's what makes this so hard to spot. It doesn't feel like a mistake while you're making it. It feels like focus.
Eric said:
Longer clients make him feel more secure in his income, so he doesn't push as hard. Which eventually backfires. It just depends how long before the backfire lands, and whether a straggler client delays the panic.
"Relief from influx of money."
That was his phrase and it's exactly right.
And it runs in the other direction too.
Israel said he stops when he gets discouraged, not when he gets comfortable. Pascal said he's been the guy who doesn't fire for three months because nothing feels good enough to shoot at yet.
Different doors leading to the same room.
👉 Full, so you stop. Crushed, so you stop.
Either way your pipeline is running on how you feel, and how you feel is a terrible operator.
So here's the mechanism, and it isn't discipline.
You already know this from every other part of your life.
Take six weeks off the gym. Your first session back is humiliating. You're weaker than the day you stopped, you're sore for three days, and the whole thing is miserable.
But you don't walk out of there and decide that weights don't work.
You know exactly what happened. You're rusty. Give it a fortnight and you're back to where you were.
Now watch what happens with outreach.
You stop for three months. You come back. You send a batch and it gets nothing — because you're rusty. Your language has gone stale. You've lost your feel for what clients are actually responding to right now.
You lost your edge.
And you don't say "I'm rusty."
You say "this doesn't work."
You say dumb stuff like "I suck at this."
So you stop.
🟥 Stop → go rusty → restart → first batch misses → "this doesn't work" → stop.
That's the famine loop.
And the cost isn't just the weeks you skipped. It's that every single restart is your worst possible week — and you keep judging the entire system by it.
The fix is smaller than you think, and that's the point.
Don't set an outreach goal. Goals are for good weeks.
Set a floor.
A minimum you hit even when you're slammed, and even when you're gutted.
And make it small. Genuinely small. Small enough that a busy week can't break it and a bad week can't talk you out of it.
Because a floor you actually hold at 5 a week beats a target of 25 that you hit twice a quarter.
The five keeps you warm. The twenty-five is just the panic phase with better branding.
For two months after I started working with a big retainer client, I was still sending targeted proposals to 4-5 jobs every week.
I didn't really need, or want, any other clients.
I was building my email list.
What happened was, I started turning jobs DOWN.
I realized that I had a better opportunity to build my own business rather than keep pursuing clients.
It's a choice I wouldn't have had, or would have made much later — if I didn't keep prospecting even when I was "full."
What actually changes:
You stop having a relationship with your business where the good months make you nervous.
Because that's what's really going on when you're mid-feast and something feels off. Some part of you knows the famine is already scheduled. You just don't know the date yet.
A floor takes that away. Not because you're more disciplined than you were, but because you're no longer asking yourself to decide, every single week, whether today is a prospecting day.
You already decided.
Your job this week. One number.
What's your floor?
Not your goal. Not what you'd do in a good week.
The number you'd still hit on a week where a client is screaming, you're behind on everything, and you don't feel like it.
Post it below. 👇
If it feels embarrassingly small, it's probably about right.
The wind beneath your wings,
Nick
P.S. There's a second kind of timing I haven't touched, and it's the cheapest outreach any of you own.
Every one of you has money sitting in dead threads right now. People who replied, got interested, asked for a quote — and then went quiet. You wrote them off.
It is roughly fifty times harder to get a stranger to talk to you than somebody who has already talked to you once.
Those threads aren't lost. They're cold.
The Ghostbuster Sequence is how you warm them back up.